


Exhaustion

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhaustion, M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows his brother pretty well, and he knows that Dean likes exhaustion sex more than he lets on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaustion

It always starts after they finish a hunt, and this time they're returning to their motel room after a particularly nasty wendigo in the deep woods of northern Washington. Dean made the kill shot, or in this case, shot it with a flaming arrow after Sam doused the monster with gasoline from the trunk of their car. It took them awhile to catch up to it, moving at superhuman speeds in the deep dark of night. It was tough for Sam to stick together with Dean, who always ran out ahead, determined to save his brother and kill the monster by himself, but it was necessary to survive the night.

The minute they're back in their shitty motel room just off the highway, Dean darts into the tiny bathroom and Sam can hear the squeak of the water turning on. 

The guy who gets the kill shot gets first shower, as always.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Sam slowly strips the layers of his clothes off, making a disgusted face at the blood splatters and mud caked on them before tossing them in a heap in the corner. They'll have to do laundry tomorrow, Sam's down to his last pair of clean underwear.

Sam lays back on the mattress—thin with a spring poking through the fabric in the corner—and listens to the sounds of the water hitting the fiberglass of the tub while Dean takes his shower. Hopefully he'll leave some hot water for Sam.

He's nearly asleep by the time the door to the bathroom creaks open and steam spills out, hot and misty into the dry air of their room. It's a few moments until Dean wanders out, slim waist wrapped with a white towel that just barely fits around him. Water droplets glisten in the low light of the room's lamp as they drip off of Dean. From the slant of his shoulders and hang of his head, Sam can tell that Dean is tired past the point of no return by the way he holds his body.

Dean doesn't seem to notice his brother brushing past him to get to the bathroom since he's absorbed in his duffle bag, desperately digging out something clean to sleep in as soon as humanly possible.

The constant beating of the scalding hot water on his back makes Sam nearly moan out in pleasure and satisfaction, but instead he is interrupted, hissing a little at the sting he feels when the water rushes over his cuts and bruises from the hunt. He takes his time washing himself, washing the mud out of his hair and watching the brown water swirl around the drain before disappearing into oblivion.

When Sam finally emerges from his shower, clean and dressed in his last pair of clean underwear and a light tee shirt, he spots Dean lying face down on Sam's bed, clutching a pillow in his arms in a psuedo-hug. 

Sam smiles, knowing this was Dean's signal.

Crossing the room in a few strides, Sam approaches Dean quietly, throwing his nearly wet towel onto Dean's on the floor. He half-kneels on the edge of the bed, the thin mattress dipping under their combined weight.

Dean shifts a little, humming a little while he shoves his nose further into the pillow he's hugging and twisting slightly to lie flat on the bed. His bare back is now fully exposed and Sam's eyes are drawn to the smooth planes of Dean's well-muscled shoulders and the gentle curve of his waist. 

He couldn't resist dragging a finger lightly down Dean's spine to just above the waistband of his boxers, just brushing the surface of his skin in a tease. Dean shudders at the slight touch, trembles rolling down his body. He grumbles a little, barely audible, and clutches the pillow harder to his chest.

Sam trails his finger back up Dean's back, dragging his nail in abstract designs on the way up. He brings it up to Dean's hairline, tracing it from one side to the other before landing on the pillow in Dean's grip. He grabs ahold of the corner and gives it a few tugs.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam coaxes softly. “Let go.”

Dean's arms loosen around it at the gentle command and Sam pulls it out from under him and sets it aside. He runs his broad hand up and down his brother's back, feeling him relax under his touch before he pulls at Dean's shoulder, effectively flipping him over on the bed. 

Now on his back and spread across the bed, Dean lets out an exhale that doesn't sound either pleasant or pained. He still hasn't open his eyes or said a word to his brother, too exhausted to care about being manhandled.

Sam leaves Dean's side for only a second to search around in his duffle at the foot of the bed. He flips the cap of the tube open with a little pop and squirts a handful of lube onto his fingers. Laying down facing his brother on the bed, Sam spreads the lube through his fingers in an attempt to warm it up.

As if asleep, Dean is still laying perfectly still, save for his chest moving up and down in slow, deep breaths, and Sam recognizes that Dean is almost asleep, or at least very close. He runs a few of his un-lubed fingers across the skin above the waistband of Dean's boxers before they dip below, seeking out their target. Dean is half-hard already, probably from when Sam rubbed his back and flipped him over a few minutes ago. 

Sam pulls down the boxers just far enough so Dean's cock is exposed to the cool night air of their motel room. He flinches at the first contact—the lube is probably still a little cold to the touch—but Dean is still blissfully relaxed. Sam works in gentle pulls, working Dean's dick to full hardness. He finds a slow, almost lazy rhythm and makes sure to brush his fingertips across the head after every stroke, just as he know his brother likes.

The lines on Dean's face and any residual tension disappears as Dean fully and completely melts into the bed. He murmurs sleepily and his hips slightly thrust forward at Sam's strokes, seeking out the friction of his brother's palm. 

Sam uses his free hand to tease Dean's balls, tickling them lightly with fingertips and then giving them a light squeeze. Dean freezes up only seconds before he comes wordlessly, with only a happy sigh.

Giving Dean one last stroke, Sam pulls his hand off of Dean's cock and uses his un-lubed one to grasp at his own dick. He palms it a few times through the fabric of his boxers to take the edge off before turning his attention back to his brother, who looks complacent on the sheets.

Placing a hand at Dean's waist and shoulder, Sam rolls his brother over onto his stomach again, maneuvering Dean's arms until they are spread up and around his head like he was reaching for the headboard. Sam loves it when Dean is this pliant, able to be moved around into any position with the aid of his hands.

Sam tugs Dean's boxers off and tosses them across the room before he retrieves more lube from the tube on the nightstand, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. He brushes a wet fingertip over Dean's opening, but there's no response from his brother. He does it a few more times, thoroughly wetting the outside ring of muscle before pushing a finger in.

Dean doesn't make a response until Sam puts the third finger in. Dean's breath changes slightly, inhaling in time with the thrust of Sam's fingers. He works slightly faster, alternating between two and three fingers, scissoring and stretching him wide enough to take Sam's cock.

Sam doesn't know where he finds the energy to do all this, since he's nearly just as tired, but keeps the tempo until Dean is absently pushing back onto his fingers, his subconscious asking for more.

After withdrawing his fingers, Sam strips himself of his clothes and quickly lubes himself up, trying not to tease himself too much since he's been hard since the beginning. Sam hovers over Dean, taking in the sight of his brother lying on the bed and waiting for him.

When Sam presses in, he swears Dean shivers. He starts out slow, sliding his thick cock into Dean's tight hole. Sam's cock glistens with lube, and he can't help staring at the point where they're connected, watching his dick disappear into Dean's ass.

The heat and friction is unbearable and addicting, and Sam wants more. He picks up the pace, pumping into Dean a little harder and faster. His hips slam against Dean's plump cheeks, and Sam knows he could go deeper.

He slows down to a stop, and Dean mumbles something into the sheets again. Sam reaches for Dean's leg, grabbing it under the knee and hiking it up against the bed, exposing Dean's hole for better access.

Sam resumes his rhythm, plunging deeper and deeper into Dean. He feels so hot and wet, Dean's hole squeezing around Sam's cock. Sam seizes Dean by the hips, pulling him back to meet him with every thrust.

Dean's panting now, and Sam is sure he's not even remotely asleep but only exhausted enough to keep him from actively participating. He keeps one hand on Dean's knee, pushing his leg back up and out of the way as he fucks his brother hard, and holds another hand on the back of Dean's neck, even though he knows Dean wouldn't try to move anytime soon.

Sam rolls and snaps his hips into his brother until he's about to come. He sinks in as far as he could, burying himself in Dean's wet heat. Sam comes hard, hitting him like a train, crying out Dean's name in the process.

Now limp and incredibly satisfied, Sam pulls out and falls on the bed to lay next to Dean. Sam wraps his arms around Dean and pulls his brother close before pulling a thin sheet across them. He only gets a few short moments to admire Dean's eyelashes and freckles before his brother stirs in his arms.

Dean's green eyes crack open to meet his brother's. “I could sleep for years.”

Sam smiles sleepily, the exhaustion finally setting in. “Do it.”


End file.
